In a few years, we’ll be walking the streets of NY. We would’ve made it. We would be arguing about what color the walls should be, cause we’re very different. You would have problems getting guys, cause they would think you’re with me already, and I would tease you about it. I would work, maybe even perform in a bar at night. You would study, finally something you never thought you’d love, but we found it together, and it fits you perfectly, and you’ll do wonders with it. We then catch up at night, have dinner together every night, tell our days, laugh, remember old times, and now the good, how we made it.
And we would go to bed, with a smile on our faces, because the next morning, and the ones after, we would wake up, knowing that we’re a room across from now on.
I love you.
PS: there are visitors, that made it with us, the ones that stuck through time, that keep on coming from time to time, they just never planned NY like we did.